Once Upon A Time
by Adalind
Summary: An English tattoo artist is dragged into the Lost Boy's world. Why? Because Paul wants some ink & Dwayne & Marko want to win a bet with David. Gwen has to work out how to stop Paul's body regenerating the works she's done, and stay alive.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is my first Lost Boys fic. Trust me, the boys do turn up in this chapter.

**Once Upon A Time**

**Chapter One**

**Kensington, London. Summer 1986**

Genevive stood at the top of her front steps, hands on hips, glaring down at her younger sister dispassionately. "Hell Gwen, can't you park that damn bike at the back? I don't want the neighbors seeing it sat there; God only knows what they'll think of us."

Gwen tugged off her crash helmet and rolled her eyes, then got off her bike and unclipped the saddle bags from the Triumph. "Nice to see you too," she muttered under her breath as she stomped up the steps, pushed past Genevive, and went into the hall.

Instantly, two sets of feet clattered across the hardwood living room floor, and her nephews came barreling out to greet her. "Auntie Gwen!" the youngest, John yelled as he attached himself to her leather clad leg like a limpet.

"Hey kiddo," she responded affectionately, as she ruffled his sandy brown hair. Michael, the oldest of the pair hung back a little, but grinned at her all the same.

"Boys, go back to the TV, I need to speak to your Aunt," their mother snapped as she slammed the front door closed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Go on," Gwen coaxed. "I'm not going anywhere; I'll come and talk to you in a bit, okay?"

The boys nodded reluctantly and slipped back into the living room.

Gwen dropped her luggage to the floor, hung up her bike jacket and went into the kitchen, her older sister hot on her heels.

"I know, no junk food, no 15 rated movies, no staying up past 10pm on the weekend or 8.30 pm on a school night," Gwen rattled off as she put the kettle on.

Genevive glared. "And no drugs in the house, none of your strange friends calling around, and certainly no men staying over."

"Jeez, Jen, what do you think I am?"

Genevive studied her little sister coldly. "Certainly not my first choice to watch the boys while we're away, that's for sure."

Gwen shrugged. "Not a problem, I can just leave and you can find yourself another babysitter at two hours notice."

Genevive opened her mouth to respond, but promptly shut it again as her husband entered the room.

"Hi Gwen, long time, no see."

Gwen smiled at Mortimer Darling as he wandered over to stand by the sink. Mort was her brother in law, and she had a lot more time for him than she had for her stuck up sister. Looking at her now, you would never have guessed that she grew up on a council estate in Hackney. Genevive had married Mort for his money, and Mort had married her for her good looks. Guess they deserved each other.

"Have you finished packing yet, honey?" Mort asked his wife.

"Oh my God, is that the time?" Genevive shrieked, as she dashed out the kitchen and back up stairs.

Mort snorted, and took a seat at the breakfast bar. "Just ignore your sister; you know what a bitch she can be. Seriously though, thanks for stepping in at the last minute. You didn't have plans did you?"

Gwen smiled. "Nothing that couldn't be pushed back for a couple of weeks. Don't worry about it, I love watching the boys."

He nodded. "So where you gallivanting off to next on business?"

"California again; they asked me back for the summer," she responded as she dropped a teabag in a cup. "Tea?"

"No thanks. Don't you ever get tired of all that travelling?"

"Not really, it's fun to see new places all the time, though maybe this year I'll see more than the shop and the boardwalk," Gwen chuckled.

"You know, I'd ask you to do some work on me, but I know that your sister would kill me. According to her, tattoos are for the uneducated." Mort stated bitterly.

"I hope she never says that in front of our dad," Gwen joked.

"Nor are they the sort of thing a stock broker should have either," he grumbled.

"You could always get one somewhere she'd never see."

"What, like my dick?" Mort retorted venomously.

"Oh, it's that bad, huh?"

"I love you sister, and I really hope that this holiday can help mend a few bridges. I just feel like… I don't know. Since I got the promotion and ended up working longer hours, she's become so distant. I just feel like I'm stuck on the outside looking in, and I don't know what to do, Gwen."

Gwen smiled sadly. "Don't come to me for relationship advice, Mort. I'm the last person you should be talking to about that. I mean look at me, I can't hold down a steady relationship to save my life."

Mort frowned. "What happened to Danny?"

"Oh you mean the guy that couldn't keep his dick in his pants for five minutes once I left the country?"

"Ah."

Gwen sighed. "Still, I'm only twenty-six, got my whole life ahead of me. But you know, somehow I don't think that I'll ever be like Jen, and get married and pop out a couple of kids. I'll stick to being an aunt, I reckon."

"The boys have been looking forward to spending time with you; I hope that you brought a lot of books to read to them."

Gwen nodded. "Oh yeah, I've got a couple with me that they should enjoy."

"Just no more Peter Pan; John spent a month trying to fly after you read him that book."

"Nothing wrong with a healthy imagination, Mortimer," she grinned.

Mort rolled his eyes. "I never said that, I just don't want your sister back on the valium because her eight year old is trying to fly out of his bedroom window again, and the eleven year old is idolizing a rabble of badly behaved Lost Boys."

Gwen touched his arm gently. "Let them live a little, it won't do them any harm."

"I know, we're only young once right?" Mort replied as he scrubbed his hands over his face.

Gwen shifted uncomfortably, and looked away. "Yeah, something like that."

* * *

Gwen clicked the front door shut behind her older sister and brother in law and leant against in relief. Thank God they were gone; her sister had been driving her nuts and there were only so many snide comments she could take in one day. Sure Gwen was different, but that didn't mean that her sister had the right to berate her at every turn. What her sister didn't know was that Gwen made more money than Mort did, and by the looks of things, she was having a damn sight more fun. Everything Genevive did was about fitting in, but with Gwen, it seemed to be the opposite. Most of the time she couldn't give a rat's ass what people thought of her.

Ever since she'd been a little girl, Gwen had drawn. She'd drawn on every flat surface she could get her hands on, and by her early teens, she'd gotten rather good. By seventeen she was working in a tattoo studio making the tea and drawing up designs for clients, and by twenty two she'd made a name for herself. And that was how she ended up travelling the world guesting in tattoo studios across the globe for a couple of months at a time. She'd seen so many different countries and cities, but one place stood out in her mind; Santa Carla. It wasn't the studio that made it any different from anywhere else she'd been, but more the people she'd met.

She pushed away her jumbled thoughts, and turned to her two young charges. "Okay, so who's for pizza?"

Michael nodded happily, while John squealed and bounced up and down. "I'll take that as a yes, then," she chuckled.

"Auntie Gwen, did you bring Peter Pan again?" John asked.

"Nope, this time we've got The Weirdstone of Brisingamen and The Moon of Gomrath; magic, wizards and dwarves."

John pouted. "But I wanted to hear about Peter Pan and the Lost Boys again, Gwen."

Michael nodded. "Please, Gwen, and you can be Wendy again."

Gwen blinked slowly, remembering the last time someone abbreviated her full name to Wendy. Her given name was Gwendolyn; most people called her Gwen, but a couple of people, well four to be precise, had once called her Wendy. It was nearly a year since she saw them, and she hadn't thought of them in months, but they'd come to her mind on numerous occasions today. Maybe she'd see them again when she went back to Santa Carla in a couple of weeks, to guest at the tattoo studio there. Then again, maybe they'd have moved on by now…

John tugged at her sleeve. "Auntie Gwen, you okay?"

She nodded. "Sure, you just reminded me of some friends, that's all. Tell you what, how about a story about the Lost Boys; I haven't got the book, but I can tell you it from memory."

"Does it have Peter Pan in it too?" Michael asked.

Gwen smiled; her sister was going to crucify her when she got back, but what the hell. It wasn't like the boys would believe this tale anyway. "Nope, but it does have Wendy."

* * *

The stories at bedtime had started out as a cunning way to get the boys to go to bed when she babysat for them, but Gwen had never expected them to enjoy the whole thing so much. John scooted into bed and under his covers, while John climbed onto the bottom of his brother's bed and sat cross legged. Gwen handed them their milk, tugged off her worn bike boots and settled herself next to John, with her back to the headboard.

"Are we sitting comfortably?"

Both boys nodded.

"Good, then I'll begin."

"Why do you always start stories that way?" Michael muttered. "I'm not a baby."

"Hush, you have to do things properly, Michael. So shall I continue, or are you too old for this sort of thing now?"

Michael shook his head rapidly. "No, carry on."

Gwen smirked. "Once upon a time…"

John laughed, but Michael groaned.

"I can go, and you boys can go to bed with no story if you like," Gwen teased.

"No, we'll be quiet," John shrieked, as he cast a glare at his brother.

"Okay, now where was I?" Gwen asked.

"Once upon a time," Michael gritted out.

She smiled "Oh yes."

* * *

"I'm telling you, that new assistant Max has just hired is damn fine," Paul commented as the boys made their way back towards their bikes.

Marko smirked. "Dude, you think anything with tits and a short skirt is fine."

Paul mulled over the comments for a second before responding. "True, but this one has that certain je ne says…" he waved his hand. "A certain something, you know what I mean."

Dwayne rolled his eyes. "Un je ne sais quoi, you idiot."

"Whatever," Paul muttered, glaring at Dwayne.

David sighed as he watched the banter between the boys; it seemed that some things would never change. "Feeding time, gentlemen. Barbeque?"

Marko and Dwayne nodded as the climbed on their rides, but Paul was lost in thought, or on another planet.

"Paul!" David chided.

"Huh? Sorry, I was just-"

"Staring at some chick?" Marko offered.

Paul frowned, watching someone further down the boardwalk. "Sort of…"

The other three guys turned to follow his gaze, but nothing jumped out at them; no long legged blonde beauties, that was for sure.

"Fucking stunning," Paul murmured to no one in particular.

Marko punched him on the shoulder, "Come on, spill! Which one are you looking at? 'Cos I don't see anything that worthy of you dribbling down your top."

"Black hair, black cut offs, black tank top," Paul responded, while still staring.

Dwayne craned his neck to get a better view. "The short chick with the piercings?"

"Yeah, would you look at that ink, brother," Paul breathed huskily.

"You're looking at her tattoos," Dwayne muttered indignantly, as he shook his head sadly. "Man, you are just weird."

David studied the young woman intently. "You can always meet up with us later if you fancy eating by yourself tonight; just remember to clean up after yourself, I don't want any re-runs of last week."

"I was interrupted during the cleaning up process," Paul protested angrily to his leader, "Can't you just let it the fuck go?"

David leaned in close, looking Paul square in the eyes. "No I won't just let it go; I was the one who had to answer to Max. Every time you fuck up, I'm the one that gets it in the neck, Paul."

"Sorry," the blond muttered, looking away from David's icy glare. "S'okay, I'm not gonna dine on her, it'd be a waste of all that amazing ink; must have taken hours, days, even."

Marko let out a bark of laughter. "Jeez, saved by her tattoos, you're priceless, you know that, Paul?"

"Fuck you, short stuff," Paul snarled as he got on his bike, gunned the engine and tore off down the boardwalk towards the beach and the millions of bonfires that blazed there.

* * *

The boys prowled along the boardwalk, walking one last circuit and having one final attempt at pissing Max off at the video store before heading back to the cave for the last few hours before dawn; it was nearing 2am and the attractions and shops were shutting down for the night. As they neared their rides, Dwayne stopped dead in the middle of the boards.

"What the fuck?" he muttered. "Someone's messing with my bike!"

The rest of the boys looked over, and sure enough, someone was crouched down next to Dwayne's Triumph. He took off at a fast walk, crossing the fifty or so feet in a few seconds. David motioned to Paul and Marko to hang back a little; he knew that Dwayne was more than able to handle the situation by himself, and the last thing David needed was the Toxic Twins here wading in and causing chaos.

Dwayne reached his bike and looked down at the figure bending down, peering intently at the engine of his Triumph. "Can I help you? He ground out.

The young woman looked up at him, and he realized that it was the one from earlier; the one with the tattoos that Paul had been watching.

"This your ride?" she asked in what sounded to be an English accent.

He nodded once.

The girl smiled up at him. "Nice bike, man. I see that you've added some custom shocks to her; good choice, much better than the factory standard. You souped-up the engine too, I take it?"

He nodded again, feeling slightly bewildered by the whole situation.

"I bet she goes like shit off a shovel," the young woman exclaimed with a grin.

"She what?"

"Sorry, I mean that it's a fast bike."

"Right, yeah…"

She stood up. "Oh God, where are my manners? Gwendolyn," she stated as she held out her hand in greeting.

Dwayne took her small hand in his and shook it a couple of times. "Dwayne."

She opened her mouth to reply, but Paul picked that moment to come bounding up.

"Hey girl, nice ink!" he crowed as he skidded to a stop next to Dwayne. "I'm Paul."

Gwendolyn looked from Dwayne to the crazy blond next to him, and smiled. "Thanks. Well, nice meeting you both, maybe see you about some time."

She stepped around them both and walked away towards the end of the boardwalk.

"Hey, girl!" Paul yelled after her. "Need a ride?"

She stopped and turned back to face him. "Which one's yours?"

Paul proudly stepped up next to his bike, "This one."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "That piece of Japanese crap?"

"Hey, don't you be knocking my Kawasaki, it's a damn fine bike!" Paul retorted.

Marko walked up to his brother, clapped him on the shoulder, and sniggered. Even Dwayne was smirking at Gwen's comments.

"I suggest you take note of your friend here, Paul" she said, gesturing at Dwayne, "And trade up to a Triumph."

Paul glared at her, while Marko howled with laughter, and David leant against his own Triumph and lit a smoke, watching the whole exchange in silence.

Gwen turned away again. "Nice meeting you, boys," she called out over her shoulder.

"Hey! This ain't over, girl!" Paul yelled. "Besides, I don't see your bike parked anywhere close."

She turned back around again, planted her hands on her hips, and grinned. "My bike's back at home in England, dufus. And trust me when I say that it would wipe that floor with that push bike of yours any day of the week."

Marko rubbed his hands together with glee "I smell a wager, boys," he exclaimed happily.

Paul stepped closer to Gwen, and pulled himself up to his full height. He towered over the young woman, and hoped that he was intimidating the hell out of her. "Yeah girl, a wager."

Gwen rolled her eyes and stuck her hands in her back pockets, totally un-phased by Paul's attempts at trying to unnerve her. "Are you deaf or just plain stupid? I don't have a bike here; it's in London."

Marko stepped up to join Paul. "We can fix that."

The two guys broke out in a squabble over who got to ride which bike, and who rode pillion with someone else. Paul demanded that Marko let Gwen use his bike, and that Marko ride with David or Dwayne. Marko was having none of that, and vehemently told Paul to let her use his bike, while Paul paired up with Dwayne.

David had had enough. He stepped between the guys, and pushed them apart. "A wager?" he asked.

Paul nodded.

"What is this wager then?" He pressed, when Paul failed to elaborate.

"Err," Paul offered.

Gwen stepped up to the group. "$100 says that I'll beat Paul to a destination of his choosing, but I get to pick my ride."

David looked at her thoughtfully; this woman was either very good, or crazy. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Gwendolyn."

"Okay, Wendy-"

"It's Gwendolyn or Gwen, but never Wendy," she corrected.

"I prefer Wendy," David countered, "And besides, we are The Lost Boys. So it kind of fits, don't you think? Anyway, $100 bet for the destination of our choosing, but if you want to pick your bike, then the wager is $200. Do we have an accord, Wendy?"

"It's Gwen, and yes, we do."

David nodded. "Okay, choose."

Gwen walked past him and back to the bikes. She ignored Paul's Kawasaki totally, briefly looked over Marko's Honda, and then glanced between the two Triumphs. She ran her hands over David's bike. "Nice custom exhaust, but I'd have gone for speed and comfort like Dwayne. I'll take this one," she replied as she straddled Dwayne's bike.

Dwayne pouted and glared at David and Gwen. "Fine, but just you know that if you damage my bike, I will make you pay. Capiche?"

"I'll treat it like my own," she responded reverently, as she untied a black shirt from around her waist and slipped it on, then braided her long dark hair back from her face.

David climbed on his own bike, and before Marko could even move, Dwayne had stolen his ride.

"Hey!" Marko shrieked in protest.

He made a move towards Paul, but Paul growled. "Hell, no! I ain't carrying your dead weight around if I want to beat her."

"Marko, get on," David muttered with a sigh. "You know where Hudson's Bluff is, out overlooking the point, Wendy?"

"Nope, sorry."

"See the lighthouse?"

She glanced towards the pulsing light in the distance.

"It's right there. Oh, and watch the drop," he smirked.

Gwen nodded, "So, along the beach, through the woods, and along the coast, right?"

"Correct." Dwayne handed over his bike's keys without any further comment.

She turned the engine over, let out the throttle and with a brief backwards glance at Paul, she tore off down the boardwalk in the direction of the steps, tires squealing.

"Fuck!" Paul yelled as he took off after her.

"I hate you all," Dwayne growled, as he pulled out after them both.

Marko laughed loudly, while David smirked again and joined the parade of bikes heading towards the bluff.

The beach was uneven and rutted, but the Triumph made good headway across the treacherous ground. Gwen let out a whoop of excitement and she flew over the sand, and headed towards the lighthouse. That $200 was hers; it was in the bag. There was no way that the Kawasaki could catch her, the Honda didn't have much chance either, and the other Triumph was carrying two. Besides, what these idiots didn't know was that she'd spent her youth tearing across London council estates on her older brother's trail bike. This was like a walk in the park.

The beach gave way to woods, and the ride got more demanding as she wove through the densely packed trees; the light from the bike's headlight did little to illuminate her surroundings, but she was aided by the nearly full moon. She could hear the other bikes behind her, along with the noise of the wind as it buffeted her around, shirt billowing out behind her, but no one was that close. She must have had about a quarter mile lead on Paul by now.

The woods thinned out to dirt, and she opened the throttle again, pushing the speed up and testing the bike to its limits. The blinking light loomed up in the distance, probably no more than a couple of miles away, and as the Speedo crept up towards seventy; Gwen reckoned that she was only just over a minute from winning this bet.

The bike ate up the ground, drawing Gwen ever closer to Hudson's Bluff, and her $200. She put her head down to block out the flashing light of the seafarers' beacon up ahead, and concentrated on the dirt and rocks directly in front of her. Fog had rolled in from the sea, lowering the visibility to nothing more than fifty feet, so she cut the speed for fear of riding straight off the cliff and onto the rocks and icy waves below. Engines rumbled in the distance, drawing ever closer, but Gwen slowed a little more, dropping down to around thirty miles an hour, when suddenly the cliff edge loomed up out of the blackness. She hit the brakes, and the Triumph skidded across the loose ground, back end swinging out wildly. Gwen hunched down over the bike, lowering the center of gravity, and when she felt the bike start to slide, put her foot down to control the motion.

She came to rest mere feet from the bluff's edge, facing back the way she'd just come, and grinned like a fool; that was the most fun she'd had in ages. She'd barely had time to catch her breath when Paul zoomed out of the thickening mist and screeched to a stop inches away from her.

"Fuck girl, where the hell did you learn to ride like that?" he asked in awe.

Gwen laughed. "On a council estate in north east London. So come on, cough up; I reckon you owe me $200."

"Shit, yeah. I think that you'll have to see David about the money, I don't have that sort of cash on me."

"What that hell?" Gwen yelled as she reached out and poked Paul in the chest. "What do you mean that you don't have the money, huh?"

"Here," Dwayne appeared out of nowhere and handed her a bundle of notes.

She'd not even seen him stop his bike, let alone walk up to her, as the mist was so thick now. Gwen pocketed the cash. "Thanks, for that, and for letting me borrow your ride. She's an amazing machine, and I'm sorry that I ruined your evening by making you ride a Honda."

The other two guys finally joined the small group on the headland. David lit a cigarette, the tip flaring orange in the dense fog, while Marko ribbed Paul for losing out to a girl.

Gwen looked at the squabbling blonds. "Well, if you want to lose another $200, we can try this again tomorrow night once I've finished work, and I'll ride your bike this time, Paul."

Paul considered the idea for a few beats, before shaking his head. "Hell no, I'll concede now. I have a nasty feeling that I'd be another $200 poorer."

"And you still owe me for this time," Dwayne growled.

"Well, this has been a fun end to our evening, Wendy," David proffered "And now it is time for us to bid you a good night."

"Excuse me?" Gwen asked in confusion.

David smirked and took a long drag on his smoke. "Goodnight, Wendy." He stepped back into the fog and vanished from sight.

"Night, girl," Marko said, as he too disappeared into the darkness.

Gwen shivered with cold; her adrenalin finally faded, and she suddenly realized that she was in the middle of nowhere with two strange men, and no way of getting back to her motel near the boardwalk.

"I guess you'll be wanting these back, right?" she asked Dwayne as she held up his keys.

The dark haired guy nodded, so she handed them over and got off his bike.

Paul got off his Kawasaki and leered at Gwen. "I'd offer you a ride, but all you've done since I met you is trash my choice of bike, and then you had the gall to beat me out here; so it looks like you're walking, doll. See you around."

In desperation, Gwen looked to Dwayne, who was still standing next to her.

"Time for me to go. The boardwalk's that way," he said, pointing off to his right.

Gwen looked to where he was pointing, and then glanced back to him, but he had already gone. She was left standing by the cooling Triumph, alone and totally lost.

"Bastards!" she yelled out into the mist as she started walking into the night. The fog swirled around her and the sound of laughter followed her on the icy wind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Once Upon A Time**

**Chapter Two**

Night had come once more to Santa Carla, and the boys had congregated on the boardwalk near the video store; fresh from an evening's slaughter, their blood lust sated once more. Marko fiddled with his Honda, absently popping bright pink bubble gum, while Paul paced back and forth in front of the bikes, lost in a world of his own, as he absently picked tufts off a stick of cotton candy. Dwayne had taken up a perch on the boardwalk's railing; he sat astride it, one long leg dangled over the seaward side, while the other rested upon the worn top, and David casually leant up against a post, eyes ever watchful as he smoked a joint.

Crowds of people milled around them, oblivious to the pack of killers that lounged only feet away. Upon first inspection, the Lost Boys were nothing more than another gang of bikers. Those who were unfortunate enough to see the other side of these young men were never left alive to inform anyone otherwise.

Paul stopped mid pace and glanced down the boardwalk, looking at the tattoo studio a few doors down; it's blood-red neon sign lit up the wooden boards beneath the front windows, making the ground look like it was bathed in blood.

"I want a tattoo," he announced suddenly to the rest of the boys.

Dwayne rolled his eyes in exasperation, Marko sniggered, and David shook his head sadly. "Don't be so stupid, Paul."

His brow scrunched up in confusion. "What? You can't stop me, David," he accused.

"Idiot," Dwayne muttered under his breath.

"Paul, come here," David commanded.

The blond raised an eyebrow in response, and David beckoned him closer with a gloved hand.

"It's my damn body," Paul grumbled indignantly as he walked over to his leader.

"I know," David responded coolly; he couldn't believe that the youngster could be so foolish.

Paul stepped up next to him and looked out over the beach and rolling waves below; his stubborn nature kept him from meeting David's gaze. "You're not my fucking father, you know," he growled.

David sighed heavily; every so often Paul would test his patience to its limits and push at his boundaries. "Genetically no, but it was my blood that turned you, Paul, never forget that. Put your hand on the rail."

"What?"

"Put your hand on the rail, Paul.I want to show you something," David whispered menacingly.

Paul's eyes flicked to Marko and Dwayne, who were both watching the power play closely. Their faces were both blank; there was no help to be had from either quarter. He looked back to David, then glanced down at the rail, and slowly placed his hand palm down upon it. "Happy now?" he asked waspishly.

"Very," was David's sudden reply as he drove his pocket knife straight through the back of Paul's hand, pinning it to the wood beneath.

Paul let out an almighty howl, and David clamped his hand over his brother's mouth to silence him; it would not do to alert Max to this little interaction. "Can I take my hand away?" he questioned.

Paul nodded, gasping in pain as David released his hold on him. "What the fuck did you do that for?" he shrieked in rage.

"Watch," David demanded, as he pulled the knife free, causing Paul to hiss though his teeth. "What do you see, Paul?"

"A fucking hole in my hand, that's what," he retorted, as he waved the blood splattered appendage in front of David's face.

David snatched at his hand, and scrubbed the blood away with the edge of Paul's jacket. "And what do you see now?"

Paul inspected his hand closely. "A healing hole in my hand?"

"Exactly. And what is a tattoo?"

"Pretty?"

Dwayne snorted. "It's a tiny wound, you moron. Your body would heal an injury that small in seconds, and within hours the skin would have regenerated to the point that the ink would have been forced out of your body, giving a whole new meaning to the term temporary tattoo."

Paul looked crest fallen. "So you mean… that I can't… Shit, this sucks! But I always wanted a tattoo, just never had the money." He stamped his foot and pouted. "This is so unfair."

Marko howled with laughter at Paul's comical outburst. The guy cracked him up, he really did. He loved Paul like a brother, but sometimes the kid could really be dense. It wasn't Paul's fault; he'd only been a vampire for around ten years, which in their world, equated to being a toddler, it was just that he'd never been that bright to begin with, and certainly wasn't getting any better with age.

With a pop of his gum, Marko wiped a single pink tinged tear of laughter from his face and smiled up at Paul. "Think of it was a very cheap price to pay for the life you lead, man."

"But I want a tattoo," Paul whined.

Yeah Paul behaved like a toddler alright, Marko thought, as a flash of red caught his attention. He glanced down the boardwalk and bit back a chuckle as he homed in on the color again; it belonged to the tank top of a young woman in black leather pants that had just emerged from the tattoo studio on a cigarette break. It was the same girl from last night; the one they had left stranded on the bluff at 2am in dense fog. Maybe things were about to get interesting. "$500 says that Paul finds someone to ink him," he announced suddenly.

David looked over at him in confusion. "He's not going to a studio, Marko."

He nodded in agreement. "I know, but still, $500 on Paul getting a tattoo."

"Are you nuts?" Dwayne commented.

Marko just grinned. "Pretty much, and I'll bet $1000 if he can get one that lasts longer than a week."

His leader looked at him like he was crazy, and obviously intent on throwing money away. "Fine, you're on."

"Shake on it?" Marko asked.

David pulled his knife again and made a small gash on his right palm, then handed the blade to Marko, who did the same. The two vampires pressed their hands together, sealing the deal, and Marko backed away smirking. "Don't even think about getting out of this one David; we have witnesses."

Paul seemed unaware of the deal, and was still gazing at his rapidly healing hand, yet Dwayne watched the interaction with interest, knowing that Marko was up to something. And then he too saw the young woman outside the tattoo parlor, and instantly figured out just what the curly blond was up to. He slid from the railing and smirked. "Excuse me, gentlemen."

With a jingle of chains he prowled down the boards and stepped up to Gwen. "Enjoy your walk last night?"

She nearly choked on a lung full of smoke as she scowled up at him. "What the fuck do you want? Come to rub my face in it, have you?"

"No, merely enquiring after your stroll last night."

"Right…"

He reached out and rubbed his finger over a patch if black ink, tracing the twisting designs that graced her left arm. "Can't I even-"

Gwen batted his hand away. "Get your hands off me," she gritted out as she dropped her smoke to the floor and stubbed the butt out viciously with the toe of her boot. "Go find someone else to play games with, arsehole."

Dwayne raised his hands in surrender, and backed away. "I won't keep you from your work," he replied.

The young woman glared. "No, you most certainly won't," she declared as she tossed her long hair over her shoulder, and marched back inside the shop.

He smirked at her retreating form. She was a tattoo artist then, he concluded; Marko was definitely on to something here. Maybe he could help Marko out with his bet, and they could split the pot in half.

He walked back over to the rest of the group. David stared at him in silence, some unreadable emotion swirling behind his icy blue eyes, and Marko winked at him. This was going to be fun; David was a sore loser.

* * *

"You think she'll go for it?" Marko quizzed, as he stood in the darkness of the alley that ran down the side of the the tattoo shop.

Dwayne shrugged. "Who knows? We've got nothing to lose, well possibly $1000…"

Marko chewed on his lower lip. "David's suspicious."

"David's always suspicious, man."

"Yeah, but he thinks that we're up to something. He's got that look."

"You sure it's not indigestion?" Dwayne asked innocently.

Marko coughed loudly and smacked himself on his chest. "Shit man, you just made me swallow my gum! Now I'll have to go kill another cheerleader to get some more."

"Marko, you can buy all the gum you want when we pocket £500 each. Just chill, dude."

"But what are we going to say to her? We'll have to tell her something; otherwise she won't be able to come up with a solution. If she doesn't know that he's a vampire, then how can she work out how to make the ink stick? It's a lot of money we're talking about, Dwayne."

"Hey, you made that damn bet in the first place, I thought that you knew what you were doing?"

"I…"

"Great, just fucking great, you dipshit. Crap, there she is."

"What are we going to do?" Marko wailed.

Dwayne frowned; the girl was mad at them. What did you do when women were pissed? "Okay, just follow my lead, and no laughing," he threatened Marko.

The pair stepped out of the shadows, following Gwen down the boardwalk. She stopped suddenly and turned around, her eyes going wide as she spotted them. "You can both just fuck right off, you hear me?" she growled.

The boys stopped about ten feet away, and Dwayne took a couple of steps closer to her. "Look, we're sorry, okay?"

"Sorry? You stranded me in the middle of fucking nowhere, at two in the bloody morning, and now you say that you're sorry? I could have walked off that damn cliff, been attacked…"

Dwayne raised his hands in surrender for the second time that night. "I know, which is why we're sorry. It wasn't our fault; David calls the shots, not us."

"So if David told you to walk off that damn bluff, you'd what, just step right off, huh?"

Dwayne shook his head slowly while trying to come up with a way to placate the angry woman. Shit, it was supposed to be easier than this. He'd never been good at apologizing, even when he was human. His harsh upbringing had beaten any ounce of remorse of his body, and now, being a vampire, he simply saw little need to ask for forgiveness for any of his actions.

It was then that the younger vampire next to him stepped into the fray, and tried to fix the ever crumbling confrontation. "Look, can we buy you a drink, dinner even?"

Gwen's shoulders slumped slightly in defeat and she shrugged.

Marko smiled his literally killer smile and batted his eyelashes, trying his best to seem innocent and none threatening. "Please?"

Dwayne bit his lip to stifle his laughter. Marko had the coy act down pat, and Dwayne had to wonder if the younger man would ever really change. It had been a long time since he'd first seen the blonde's act, as he'd plied his trade as a rent boy in a rundown neighborhood in New York. The young man had men eating out of his hand, with his boyish charms and pretty face, and both Dwayne and David had known instantly that Marko would fit right in with their family.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and went back to watching Marko attempt to charm Gwen.

She shook her head slowly. "I'm not so sure."

Marko looked crestfallen. "You don't trust us, do you?"

"No, not at all."

"Let us make it up to you; you can even pick the place. I feel awful for what happened last night."

Gwen narrowed her eyes at him. "Okay, enough! What the hell do you two want from me?"

"We just want to-"

She cut Marko off. "If you want to buy me dinner and a few beers, then the least you can do is be truthful with me."

Marko turned on the charm again. "What makes you think that I'm lying? We're just trying to be nice, girl."

"Very trying," she muttered as she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and stuck one between her lips.

Dwayne stepped forward and sparked his Zippo, offering her a light. She stuck the tip in the flame and took a deep drag, the cig flaring to life. "I just want the truth, guys."

"Aren't you a little young to be this cynical?" Dwayne asked solemnly.

Gwen shrugged again. "Maybe, why do you care?"

"Merely an observation, doll. Look, we need to ask you for a favor, so just let us buy you some food and a couple of drinks, okay?"

"A favor?" She asked suspiciously.

"It's worth $300 to you, plus whatever you'd charge for your time."

Gwen snorted.

"Shit, that's not what I meant, girl," Dwayne muttered, feeling like he was digging himself deeper and deeper into the hole he was standing in.

Marko laughed. "Look, just trust me when I say that it concerns nothing more than your day job."

"Okay, I'm listening."

"You know Paul, right?"

Gwen nodded. "How could I ever forget?"

"He wants some ink," Marko explained.

"Well just tell him to come down to the studio," Gwen stated.

"Ahh, well…"

"Look, if he's afraid of needles then you can tell him that it's not an issue; I've dealt with loads of people like that over the years."

Dwayne looked to Marko, who seemed to have no idea how to explain the problem. "No, not that, more that it's kind of a sensitive topic," Dwayne offered.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Fucking hell, he won't be the first guy I've had sat in front of me with his pants around his ankles while I've tattooed something tasteless on his cock."

Marko shuddered. "What, why? That's just so wrong that I don't even want to think about it."

She looked really confused now. "Okay, so just what is his problem then?"

"Can we discuss it over dinner?" Marko pleaded.

The young woman shook her head. "I must be fucking nuts," she muttered. "Sure, lead the way."

"Our bikes are parked over here," Dwayne said, as he gestured towards the other end of the boardwalk.

"If you think I'm getting on a damn bike with either of you, so you can dump me in the arse end of nowhere again, then you've got another thing coming!"

Dwayne growled. "Look, we're not gonna try anything. The only place that's open at this time of night is out of town, so unless you'd like to walk out there…"

"Fine, I'll just call a cab," Gwen retorted.

Shit, she better be able to ink Paul, Dwayne thought. "Okay, you can take my bike."

Gwen laughed. "So you can abandon me again?"

Christ, she was difficult. "You can keep hold of the keys. Deal?"

Finally she relented. "Okay."

Marko hooked his arm through hers and towed her along the boards until they reached the bikes, where Dwayne dutifully handed over the keys. Gwen straddled the Triumph, and jumped slightly when Dwayne climbed on behind her. "What, you think I want to be seen on that piece of crap two nights running," he joked as he gestured towards Marko's ride.

Gwen laughed, and he felt the tension ease from her body slightly. She looked at him over her shoulder as she gunned the engine. "I still don't trust you, Dwayne."

"I know; you're a very smart woman, doll," he whispered to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Once Upon A Time**

**Chapter Three**

Gwen had tailed Marko's bike out of the centre of town as he'd headed south towards the Cabrillo Highway. After a few miles he'd pulled off at a truck stop and slowed to a halt outside the front door. Gwen parked the Triumph next to him, glad that the short ride was finally over. As soon as she'd driven off the boardwalk, Dwayne had looped his arms around her waist and settled himself up against her back. There was something about the guy that set her nerves on edge, and when he'd touched her, goose bumps had broken out across her flesh, and not in a good way either. She was also very cold. For the second night in a row she'd ridden without a leather jacket on, or gloves and a crash helmet for that matter. She must have been crazy; she'd never be this careless back home. Last night she'd been running on pure, undiluted adrenalin, but not tonight; instead, she seemed to be running on what felt an awful lot like fear.

She waited for Dwayne to dismount before turning the engine off and pocketing the keys; there was no way on this earth that she was walking home for a second time in as many nights. Gwen slid from the bike, and almost instantly, Marko snagged her arm with his again, pulling her towards the entrance, with his dark haired companion bringing up the rear. Gwen faltered for a second, as an icy chill shot down her spine, but she recovered quickly, and let Marko lead her inside the brightly lit establishment, that was, if nothing else, full of other people. There was safety in numbers, right?

Marko chose a booth at the rear of the diner, and sat with his back against the wall so he could face both the room and the exit. Gwen certainly didn't want to sit next to him, so she took the opposite bench. Much to her relief, Dwayne chose to sit next to his friend. The waitress eventually ambled over and poured them each a coffee and Gwen immediately wrapped her freezing hands around the hot mug of caffeine, grateful for the heat the cup provided. She loaded the brew with a heavy dose of cream and sugar, took a sip and grimaced. She hated coffee, but it was warm, and even her insides felt chilled to the bone right now. It was a deep rooted chill, and she was pretty sure that it was more than just the ride in the cold wind that was causing it. Still, it would be just her luck to come down with a damn cold after spending two consecutive nights on a bike inappropriately dressed.

Marko tossed a coffee stained menu in her direction. "What'll it be, girl?"

She glanced down that the options in front of her, and after a couple of minutes of deliberation, made her choice. "I'll have the plain omelet, and can I get a pot of tea?"

"That's it?" Marko sounded a little shocked. "Jeez girl, you're the last of the big spenders. You not want a burger or something?"

Gwen scrunched up her face up in distaste. "I'm a vegetarian."

Dwayne spat hot coffee all over the Formica table top in disgust. "You're a what?"

She rolled her eyes and handed him a wad of napkins. "I'm a veggie, I don't eat meat. What? There's nothing wrong with that."

The guys exchanged glances, and Marko grimaced, obviously horrified by the idea of a none-meat-product diet.

The young waitress wandered back over, pad in hand and a bored look on her face, and Marko glanced up at her. "One plain omelet and a pot of tea," he all but spat out, "A burger with fries, extra rare, no salad, and," he looked to Dwayne.

"I'll have a burger too, also rare with no salad or fries, and a slice of cherry pie."

The waitress, whose name tag read Sue, scribbled everything down, nodded half heartedly and walked away again, popping gum as she went.

Gwen propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin upon her hand, trying to appear laid back and not at all bothered by their presence. "So boys, what's going on?"

The guys exchanged uneasy glances, and it seemed to Gwen that neither of them was too sure about telling her what was going on.

"Paul's-"

"It's like-"

Gwen rolled her eyes. "One at a time, boys.

Dwayne took a sip of coffee, studied the wall intently and appeared to be collecting his thoughts, while Marko absently pushed grains of spilt sugar around the table top with his finger.

Gwen was fed up, tired and still cold, and decided that enough was enough. "Look, you drag me all the way out here to tell me something important, and now neither of you wants to talk. What the hell is going on? It's not like you're spilling some state secret or something."

Dwayne glanced up and gazed straight into her eyes. "Do you believe in the supernatural?"

She frowned, and an uneasy feeling formed in her stomach. "What like ghosts, that sort of thing?"

"Kind of, what about vampires? Dwayne continued, causing Marko to shift uncomfortably beside him and chew on his finger nails.

"What about them?" Gwen asked suspiciously.

"Do you believe in them?"

Marko kicked Dwayne under the table; the waitress was returning with their food. Once she had gone again, Dwayne pressed the issue once more. "Do you believe in them?"

Gwen looked at him like he was nuts; maybe these guys were on drugs. "What sort of whacked out question is that?"

"An honest one," Marko replied. "So, do you believe?"

"Do I believe that there are vampires out there who drink people's blood? No, I think that there is a lot of nasty shit in this world, but it's just caused by humans; nothing more, nothing less. Look, what does this have to do with tattoos? I'm not really that hungry, so if it's all the same to you, I think I'll go."

Gwen stood to leave, and Dwayne's hand shot out lightening fast, and he grabbed a hold of her wrist, clamping down hard. "Stay."

The few remaining diners hunched over their food, avoiding the scene between the three bikers as best they could. No one would get involved, that was their way, but it didn't stop Marko from shaking his head in dismay at Dwayne's outburst.

Gwen's gaze went from Dwayne's face, to her captive wrist, and then back to Dwayne. Fury shone in her brown eyes and the unease in her gut turned to fear. "Let me the fuck go. Now!" she demanded angrily.

"Sit." Dwayne spat.

She narrowed her eyes. "Stay? Sit? What next, roll over? I am not your damn dog, mate."

Marko bit his lower lip in a vain attempt to stifle the snigger that was bubbling up, and he kicked his brother under the table.

Dwayne let out a sigh, and let go of Gwen. "Finish your meal, please?"

"Or what, you'll beat the shit out of me?" she replied bravely as she tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"I'm tempted to, but no."

Gwen glanced at him, and then at Marko, who smiled at her reassuringly, so she slowly sat down again, though still was not at ease with the situation. "Okay, but I'm still not happy about this; I just want one of you to speak in plain English and tell me what the hell you want."

Dwayne took a bite of his burger and nodded slowly. "Okay, truth time; we want you to tattoo Paul so we can win a bet, but it can't be done in a tattoo studio."

She poked at her omelet with her fork and pushed it around her plate. "That I can do, I'm sure we can find somewhere suitable, and I'll just take the stuff that I'll need from work. But you know what; I have a feeling that there's more to this, right? I mean, there has to be some reason behind your cloak and dagger routine."

Marko choked on a mouth full of rare burger, causing Dwayne to hiss at him angrily, before he got his emotions back in check and looked over at her again. "Promise me Gwen, that whatever I tell you next will never reach another living soul, can you do that for me?"

Gwen eyed him cautiously, the fear ramping up another notch in her belly. "And if I tell someone, I'll be dead, correct?"

"Exactly."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and put her cutlery down on the side of her plate slowly "You're not just a gang of bikers, are you?"

"Correct again."

"Say I keep my mouth shut about whatever it is that you want to tell me, and then ink Paul, what guarantees to I have that I won't end up dead anyway?"

Dwayne smiled proudly. "You really are one smart cookie, doll. You will have my word."

She nodded thoughtfully, picked up her fork, and finally ate some of her dinner. A few beats later she spoke again. "But what about the other one, David? It looks like he's in charge to me."

"Even if David finds out about you and this deal with us, which I hope that he won't, you still have my word."

Marko looked from Gwen to Dwayne, pushed his plate out of the way and thunked his head on the table top. "I cannot believe," he muttered, "That you'll go against David over this. Are you fucking nuts, man? It's only money after all."

"Yeah I know, but live a little, man."

"David won't kill you Dwayne, but he will make you suffer for an eternity, don't you ever forget that." Marko grumbled. "Remember what happened in New Orleans, bro."

Dwayne glared at his brother as he absently ran his hand over this thigh and the wounds that had long since healed. "You think I can forget what happened there? Just because I don't carry the scars, does not mean that I've managed to erase it from my memory. And let me remind you, man, that it was you who dreamt up this little wager in the first place, so I think that his anger will be directed at you more than me."

"Shit," the blond groaned. "Let's just forget all this insanity, drop Miss Wendy over here off at her place, and get back before David gets suspicious."

"David's always suspicious, it's his nature," Dwayne countered. "Besides, his life would be dull if he didn't have us lot to deal with. I reckon he's just as curious as the rest of us about this whole thing anyway. He may have taken the bet, but deep down he knows that you wouldn't have gambled that much cash on a whim. David will suspect that you're up to something crazy and dangerous no matter what happens now. So we just need to keep this and Wendy-"

"Gwen!"

"Whatever. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, we just need to keep this and _Wendy _under our hats until we can collect our cash. I still think that if we pull this off he'll be too stunned to kick our, well mostly your ass from here into next week."

"Fine, but just you remember that I'm taking you down with me when the shit hits the fan," Marko replied as he tugged at his curls in frustration.

"Guys, will one of you just cut the crap and tell me what the fuck is going on," Gwen demanded grumpily.

Dwayne sighed in resignation. "Okay Wendy-"

Gwen narrowed her eyes as she cut him off. "If you keep calling me that, I'm going to leave you and Cousin It here to dig yourselves out of whatever nasty shit you've dropped yourselves into."

"Does it really bother you that much?" Marko quizzed as he picked apart the burger, discarded the limp looking bun, and slowly licked the blood and meat juices from his fingers.

Gwen looked at the bloody mess with distaste, but Marko just shrugged his shoulders and carried on eating. Finally she nodded her head. "Yes it bothers me."

"Why?" he pressed.

"Think about the person in your life that you hate or hated the most, okay. Picture them in your mind, what they did to you for you to hate them so much, how they made you feel. How do you feel now?"

Marko frowned, "Pissed?"

"Dwayne?"

"Angry."

"Right, so when you call me Wendy, you remind me about my older brother's best friend, Dave. Dave was a bully and a total piece of shit; his mission in life seemed to be picking on me, belittling me and treating me like shite. And he always called me Wendy, never Gwen. So if you'd like to get on my good side, I suggest that you call me Gwen, okay?"

Dwayne pushed his hair out of his face and cocked his head to one side. "You just don't look like a _Gwen_, doll."

"And you don't look like a Dwayne, so I guess that makes us even _doll_," she retorted with a smirk, as she pushed her half eaten food aside and propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands for the second time that night. "But all this talk is still not getting me any closer to what the hell is going on, and what you want to tell me that puts my life in grave danger. So before I die of boredom, I suggest that one of you starts talking, or I might have to take that Triumph outside for a little ride."

Dwayne mirrored her pose and leaned in close to her across the table, face only a few inches away from hers. "We're vampires," he whispered.

"Jesus Christ, what is this, the fucking Twilight Zone?" Gwen snorted.

"No," Dwayne replied as he looked her straight in eyes, his own changing to a sickly shade of yellow as she stared back at him.

Gwen jerked back as though she'd been slapped and shook her head rapidly. "Oh no, this is so not happening, you hear me! Fuck this shit, I don't need it; I'm leaving."

"Crap," Marko muttered as he ignored the stares of the other diners, and put his head in his hands.

Gwen slid from the booth and swiftly marched out of the building. Dwayne watched her leave, before he turned to Marko and clapped him on the shoulder. "Guess I better go clean this mess up. Catch you later, bro."

Gwen jammed the keys in the ignition of the Triumph, praying for the engine to catch before Dwayne caught up with her. She could see him getting closer and closer to the door, and she did not want to hang around and chat with him. She wasn't sure what the hell was going on, or if he was a vampire, but she believed what she saw with her own two eyes. His had changed color right in front of her, and that was not normal; he must be on some kind of drugs. Whatever his deal was, she was pretty sure that no good would come from associating with these guys. The bike roared to life, and with a spray of gravel that peppered Dwayne as he stepped out of the door, she tore from the lot.

Gwen had no destination in mind, just that she needed to put some distance between her and those two guys. What the hell had she been thinking? Rule number one: Never accept rides with strange men. She'd always been sensible and street smart, so why on earth had she agreed to this evening? Surely last night should have been enough of a warning to stay away from those guys.

After about ten minutes of aimless riding, she found herself back in town by the boardwalk. The place was deserted at just gone 3am, so she figured on dumping the bike and then hot footing it the half mile to her motel room. Santa Carla wasn't that big a place, but she reckoned that the chances of Marko and Dwayne finding her before she got to safety were slim. She was pretty sure that she hadn't been followed, and couldn't hear the sound of another bike engine. She parked the bike in the middle of the huge lot behind the fairground, turned the engine off, and realized suddenly that she still had to work out what to do with the keys. As much as she was freaked out right now, she couldn't just leave the keys with the bike; that would be really mean, and uncalled for. Besides, if someone stole his bike then she'd have to contend with a very angry Dwayne. How the fuck could she get him his keys back? It wasn't like she knew anything about him, other than he rode a shit hot bike, hung around the boardwalk and was apparently a vampire. Right… whatever. The only thing that mattered was getting out of here. Maybe she could take the keys with her and leave them at work; it wasn't like he didn't know where to find her. And she could always get Jake, the other tattoo artist to walk her home each night. Okay, that was a plan.

Gwen slid from the bike, pocketed the keys and set off at a trot across the parking lot. Her boots made no sound as they hit the asphalt, and the only noise in the night was that of her jewelry jangling together as she moved. About thirty feet from the bike she heard another noise in the dark, like something whistling through the air. She stopped dead and turned around slowly. Nothing. No one. She was alone, but the noise was getting louder. Fear tingled up her spine and she forced herself to set of walking again. It's just the wind, it's just the wind, she repeated in her head like a mantra. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that there was no one behind her, and the bike was still where she'd parked it. There was just the sound of the wind screaming around her and…

She walked straight into someone and let out a shriek. It was Dwayne, and he'd literally appeared out of nowhere. There was no way that she could have missed him crossing the lot, unless… unless he dropped out of the sky? Oh fuck!

"Hey doll."

Gwen backed away slowly, and curled her hand around the bike keys. "What do you want?" she asked, sounding a lot more confident than she felt.

He smirked and took a couple of steps closer.

Gwen backed up even more, but Dwayne matched her pace for pace, and she knew that the only chance she had was to make a dash for it. Without further hesitation, she turned and ran, and let out another undignified scream as she felt two strong arms wrap around her waist and lift her up. The ground fell away as they rose into the air, and she didn't care how much she screamed now. She was going to die.


	4. Chapter 4

**Once Upon A Time**

**Chapter Four**

After a few beats, Gwen stopped screaming; she actually wasn't dead, yet. Still, she was floating fifty feet in the air, and if Dwayne let go, she'd leave a really ugly mess in the parking lot below. Not a way she wanted to go.

"Thank fuck for that," Dwayne growled in her ear. "Your screaming was enough to give me a headache."

Gwen hung limp in his arms, helpless. There was little point in trying to kick him, or smash his nose in with the back of her head, as she still had no desire to hit the ground from this height. She was pretty much stuck like this until he ripped her throat out or let go. "Fuck you," she gritted out finally.

Dwayne laughed, and squeezed his arms tighter around her waist. "What, right here? Have to admit that would be a first for me; not sure that it would work out really well, as I doubt that I'd get a lot of thrust in mid air."

He emphasized the last few words with a roll of his hips; Gwen blushed, and she shook her head. "Shut up. That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Dwayne laughed again and whispered in her ear. "Oh how you wound me, doll. How about we do a little sightseeing?"

Gwen had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn't sound very appealing to her, then again, it didn't seem to involver her imminent death. "What do you mean?"

Dwayne flipped gracefully onto his back, and Gwen smashed into his body, her forehead hit his bare chest and she let out a yelp. "Arsehole," she muttered as she lifted her head back to keep it off his ice cold torso.

He looked up at her, a smirk on his face again. "You ride the Sky Glider yet?"

What the hell? "No," she replied cautiously.

"Well now you can. And this way, you get to enjoy the view without it moving."

They glided through the air with ease, but Gwen still clutched onto his leather jacket; she'd never been a great fan of heights. The fairground loomed ever closer in the dark. There was something sad and forlorn about it with no lights on. It made it look derelict; the wood and metal like a collection of twisted old bones. They sailed past the Ferris wheel, and over towards the big dipper, with its flags fluttering raggedly in the light breeze. Dwayne came to a stop next to a cable car, flipped open the safety bar with one hand, and dropped Gwen into the seat, before sitting next to her and clanging the bar back across them both. "Wouldn't want you to fall out," he said with a grin.

She slid as far away as she could, but that still only left a couple of inches between them, tried to ignore the ground below and looked out along the coast. In the clear night, lights twinkled in the distance, and she had to admit that even in the dark, the view was pretty amazing. Still, she'd rather not be stuck up here with a guy who was definitely not totally human, and quite possibly a vampire. How the hell did she get herself in this mess? If she'd never stopped to look at his bike, then none of this would have happened. No, that wasn't true; things went wrong when she thought that she could win a bet without any consequences.

Gwen glanced at Dwayne; he was ignoring her, instead focusing his concentration on rolling a joint. She wasn't too keen on starting a conversation with him, as the only thing that sprang to mind was gee, do you bring all the girls here before you kill them? And she wasn't sure just how well that would go down. In the end, she lit a cigarette with a shaky hand, stared out into the night, and tried to figure a way to escape. The ground was a long way down, and going up meant aerial acrobatics involving a cable, and even then no sure way of getting down again. She wasn't carrying a knife, or anything else useful; in fact all she had was a pocket full of change, a black eyeliner pencil, her room key and her smokes. In short, she was stuck in an enclosed space fifty feet up, with Count Dracula here. But was he really a vampire, she mused. It wasn't like she'd seen his fangs, then again how else could you explain the freaky eyes and the flying? Maybe he'd spiked her coffee with acid or something and this was just a bad trip, or in fact this could just be a very shitty dream. No, it was looking more and more like Dwayne was a vampire, not that she believed in crap like that…

Gwen jumped, and the car rocked slightly from her sudden movement as Dwayne sparked his Zippo to life and lit the joint.

"Jeez, chill will you," he laughed. "Anyone would think that I bite."

She glared at him, "Was that supposed to be funny?"

He shrugged and took a drag on the joint. "Look, just smoke some of this and stop worrying, doll."

"Stop worrying? Jesus Christ, how the hell am I supposed to do that? I'm fifty feet in the air with a vampire who kidnapped me form a parking lot and no obvious means of escape."

Dwayne snorted and blew out a stream of smoke."Well, I guess when you put it like that I can understand why you're so damn jumpy."

"You have no fucking idea, mate," she grumbled.

"Have a smoke."

"Thanks, but no."

His brow creased in confusion. "You don't smoke weed?"

"Not anymore; it scrambles my brain and plays havoc with my work," Gwen explained.

Dwayne rolled his eyes and pouted, "And I thought you'd be fun."

"This is not my idea of fun," she retorted angrily. "Look, do I get to see the dawn, or are you gonna drink my blood or something equally as grim?"

"Well, I am a little peckish, now that you come to mention it," he leered as he blew smoke in her face.

Gwen's eyes went wide, she leant away from him, and her knuckles went white as her grip on the safety bar intensified. Would he really bite her, kill her even, or was he just fucking with her head? "You are joking, right?" she whispered, voice trembling ever so slightly.

Dwayne reached out slowly, brushed his fingers down her cheek, and Gwen froze in terror as his hand came to rest around her throat; Dwayne's fingers lightly caressed the soft skin there. He squeezed, causing Gwen to gasp in shock, and then he dug his thumb nail into her flesh. Silent tears fell down her face, and a trickle of blood welled around his nail and slid down her neck. He wiped the blood away with his finger tips and slowly sucked them clean. "A taste will do for now," he breathed as his eyes changed color in the dim light and his face shifted form.

Gwen stared in horror at the vampire next to her; his features were contorted and his fangs were visible. He reached out again, and she shrank back, dreading what he would do next. She didn't want to see, want to know, but she couldn't look away or close her eyes. For the first time in years, Gwen prayed.

Dwayne's fingers touched the small wound on her neck again, then moved back up to her face, and wiped the moisture away from under her eyes with the pad of his thumb. He rubbed her tears and blood together on his finger tips and then lazily licked away the evidence like he was finishing off an excellent dessert. "You taste so good," he purred as he pried her hand from the bar and caressed her wrist, drawing it closer to his mouth. "Would you give me another taste? It tastes so much sweeter when it's given freely."

Gwen pulled her hand away and her voice cracked as she tried to speak. Eventually she managed to force one word out. "No."

"Too bad, doll; I could make it really good for you," he breathed huskily as his face returned to normal.

She put her hand to her neck, touching the wound gently; it didn't seem that bad, but was still slightly sticky with blood. "Stop it, just stop messing with me. You don't have to try and scare me, I am already fucking scared, Dwayne."

He took a long pull on the joint and studied her intently. "Smoke this, and I promise that everything will be okay," Dwayne said quietly as he handed her the half smoked joint.

This time she took it, inhaled deeply, and hoped that the buzz would kill off the fear swirling around her body. "But it won't be okay, will it?" she whispered. "I'm living on borrowed time; practically dead already. Shit, I was dead the minute you told me what you are, what Marko, David and Paul are. It might not be you that kills me, but you will have a hand in it. Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone that you're a vampire; no one would believe me anyway. I'll still tattoo Paul for you; that's what got me in this mess in the first place, so it would be stupid not to do it now. Shit, I've got nothing to lose, have I?"

Dwayne looked over at her again and tucked a strand of hair behind her heavily pierced ear. "No, I guess that you haven't. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Gwen snorted. "Don't, just don't. I can't even begin to believe that you can feel compassion, so don't insult me by pretending that you do."

He closed his eyes, rested his head against the back of the seat and sighed deeply. "I do have compassion, it's just that I buried deep inside me a long time ago. You don't stay sane that long in this life if you let your compassion rule you."

"Sucks to be you, right," she muttered sarcastically as she finished the joint. Undead or not, his chances of seeing the end of the summer were better than hers.

He sat forward suddenly and looked her in the eyes. "You have no idea, Gwendolyn, no fucking idea. You think that it… shit, just forget that I said anything."

Gwen bit her lip and studied the young man next to her. He must have been in his early twenties when he was changed, but when that was, she couldn't tell. What on earth must it be like to live so long, to stay the same forever? No wonder Paul wanted ink, gotta do something to alleviate the boredom, right? "You want to skin up again?" she asked, hoping that a subject change would clear the tension filled air. There was actually no point in being afraid of him anymore, as Dwayne wasn't the real threat to her. As no matter what he'd said about stopping David, she knew that once the blond vampire found out what she'd been told, he'd kill her. Her only hope was that it would be over quickly.

Dwayne said nothing, but began rolling another smoke. She watched in silence as he swiftly put the papers together, sprinkled them liberally with grass and then topped it up with tobacco. He then deftly rolled the thing together, jammed a roach in, and stuck it in his mouth. "What time do you finish tomorrow?"

"Midnight, if I've got no customers."

"Okay, will you have everything you need?" he asked as he lit the joint.

She nodded. "I'll just need a couple of needles, gloves and some ink to begin with, as I just want to tattoo him normally and see what happens; I need a bench mark to work with. Once I have that, I can try and figure a way to make it the tattoo stick. If I do figure something out, Paul could do with having an idea of what sort of thing he wants, so I can draw something up for him. Will you ask him to have a think about what he'd like? I'd suggest that he sticks with black, as it's the most stable color; even colors fade faster than the black ink on humans."

"Sure," he nodded as he handed her the reefer.

Gwen took a long draw on the joint; the smoke making her lungs burn. But she didn't care, not anymore. All she wanted to do right now was get wasted, and not worry about all the shit that was going down for the moment.

* * *

"Gwen!"

"Go away," she muttered as someone shook her roughly.

"Gwendolyn, will you wake the fuck up?"

"Huh?" She opened her eyes slowly and looked up into Dwayne's face; man her head felt like something had died in there. "Where am I?"

"Outside your motel room," Dwayne snapped.

Her head may have felt like it was about to fall off, but she didn't remember telling him where she was staying. "How did you…"

He shifted her in his arms, and dangled her room key in front of her, complete with the name of the motel on the key fob. "You passed out after the fourth joint, and I need to get home; it's nearly dawn."

"Oh, right. You can put me down, you know."

"You sure about that?" he asked as he set her on her feet.

The world moved and her legs gave way; there was definitely a reason why she didn't smoke weed anymore.

Dwayne scooped her up in his arms again with ease, then held her close to his chest with one arm, and jiggled the key in the lock. The door swung open and he stood in the open doorway. "You have to invite me in, doll."

"What?" she asked hazily.

"You have to invite me in so I can cross the threshold. Or I can put you down, and then I can have a good laugh as you try and walk again."

Gwen's brain was still not firing on all cylinders, but she'd seen enough bad horror movies over the years to know that inviting vampires into your home was a very bad idea. "I'll walk," she replied.

Dwayne stiffened at her response and dropped her to the floor. She hit the deck with a thud and jarred her head against the door jamb. "Bastard," she gritted out.

He gave her a low bow, smirked and tossed the keys at her feet. "Good night Gwendolyn, sweet dreams."

"Fuck you," she muttered as she tried unsuccessfully to haul herself to her feet.

"Maybe later," his voice whispered in the hazy predawn light.

Gwen looked up at him to give him a nasty come back, but he had already vanished from sight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Once Upon A Time**

**Chapter Five**

"If you'd just sit still, I'd have finished by now," she gritted out, as the peroxide blonde she was tattooing squirmed again beneath the buzzing gun in Gwen's hand.

"It fucking hurts," the young woman wailed.

"It's a tattoo; it's done with a needle that sticks ink into your flesh at high speed. What, did you think that it would just tickle a bit?" Gwen growled. The stupid cow was really getting on her nerves. This had to be the longest time that she'd ever spent tattooing one simple rose on some chick's arse cheek. Normally, Gwen had time and patience for each and every one of her clients, and would never consider being so curt and rude to them, but ever since she'd crawled out of bed just after noon, she'd been in a foul mood.

Part of the black cloud hanging over her head was the result of smoking way too much weed the night before, another chunk of it was because of the nasty red wound on her neck that she'd had to hide with a black choker, and the rest was due the late appointment she had tonight with Paul and his blood drinking cronies.

The blonde shifted again, and Gwen jerked the gun back just in time to avert a disaster. "Why don't we take a break, Jessica?" she suggested.

Jessica nodded slowly. "I feel a little faint, is that normal?"

Probably due to all that air in your head, Gwen thought spitefully. "Just stick your head between your knees for a couple of minutes. I'll be right back, okay."

The young woman complied, and Gwen hustled into the tiny store room. She grabbed a handful of sterile needles, a nearly empty bottle of black ink, a couple of pairs of latex gloves and a wad of Kleenex, dropped the lot in a large zip lock bag and then stashed it away down her jacket sleeve. Jake was pretty cool, but she didn't want to have to explain to him why she was stealing supplies; he'd be back again tonight at closing time, and she didn't want him to know about Paul's tattoo.

And then it hit her; she wouldn't have a gun. Crap, she was going to have to do the work by hand, one painstaking dot at a time. And that now left her with the problems of what to anchor the needle to, and what to put the small amount of ink that she'd need in. Think, damn it.

Gwen rummaged through the supply cabinets and found a couple of small plastic pots; they'd do for the ink, so she stashed them with the rest of her stolen supplies. But as for the needle, there was nothing of use. She knew about the principle of hand tattooing, had even seen a few people with them done, but this was going to be virgin territory for her. Well, at least any mess she'd make would vanish without a trace in a few hours of it being done.

Inspiration stuck her, and she knew just what she needed; a cork. Problem solved, she could pick up a bottle of wine after work and-

The buzzer on the shop door sounded, jarring her from her thoughts, and she made her way towards the front of the store. Jessica was still where she'd left her, head between her knees, skinny arse hanging out of her too tight jeans.

"If you're wanting a tattoo tonight, then I'm afraid that you're too late," she called out as she pushed the bead curtain aside.

"I thought that I had an appointment, girl."

Paul was lounging up against the counter, grinning from ear to ear and evidently excited about getting a tattoo. Dwayne was slouched nonchalantly in a chair, leafing through a dog eared tattoo magazine. He looked up at her as Paul spoke, and shot her a smile.

Gwen flushed, and glanced at the clock on the wall; 11.30pm. "You're early," she grumbled.

"Just making sure that you're okay," Dwayne responded smoothly.

"No, you're just making sure that I'm still in the country," Gwen spat back angrily.

Dwayne smirked. "Would I?"

"Most definitely. Why don't you both bugger off for a while; I've still got a tattoo to finish."

"It's okay, we can wait," Paul replied with a grin as he bounced happily on the balls of his feet.

Gwen blew out a breath of frustration. The sooner she got Jessica out of here the better. "Fine, just don't... you know," she responded cautiously as she backed away from them and edged through the bead curtain.

"Okay Jessica, the outline is done, so I just need to do the leaves and the petals; shouldn't take me more than ten minutes."

The blonde sat up and nodded. "It's still going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Yes, but it'll be over before you know it. Besides, you can't leave it half done, now can you?" Gwen coaxed. She snapped on a fresh pair of gloves, switched inks and stretched Jessica's skin taught so she could ink in the two small leaves on the stem; couple of minutes work at the most, she mused.

The gun buzzed to life and as soon as the needle hit the girl's flesh, Jessica howled. "Ow, fuck that hurts! Stop it, please."

Gwen shook her head in disbelief, wiped away the beads of blood with a tissue and sat back on her stool. This was literally a total pain in the ass; she had places to be, and at the rate she was going, she'd be lucky to finish up here before dawn "Maybe you could come back tomorrow? We can do a bit more then."

"No, you need to carry on. I know if I leave, I won't come back. And you're right, it will look stupid if I don't get it finished; I won't be able to wear a bikini for fear of people laughing at me," Jessica explained.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Okay, try to focus on something else other than what I'm doing, and remember to breath. In fact, concentrate on your breathing. Take long slow breaths; breathe in for four beats, and then out for four beats. Think you can do that for me?"

The girl nodded, and Gwen could practically hear her counting. She started the gun up again, and Jessica flinched. Gwen shook her head; it would have helped if the lass had an ounce of fat on her, even so, it should still have been relatively painless for her. Gwen had tattooed designs in a hell of a lot more sensitive areas of the body than this, and gotten less of a reaction out of the people she'd been working on.

The needle hit flesh again, and Jessica jerked and yelped. Gwen swore under her breath, and dabbed away more blood to check on the design. Good, no damage. "Sweetheart, I need to keep at this, or this is never gonna get done."

"I need a drink; that's it, I'll get drunk," Jessica exclaimed.

"And then you'll bleed like a stuck pig. You're bleeding a lot as it is; which makes me believe that you've got alcohol in your system anyway. I don't like tattooing people who've been drinking, Jessica."

"It was just a couple of beers, for fuck's sake!" she spat.

"Yes, and despite what you may have heard, alcohol does not make this any less painful. In some cases, as I suspect in yours, it makes it worse. So getting shit faced will do you no favors, love. Now I have other customers waiting, so I suggest that you sit still and suck it up," Gwen gritted out.

Jessica pouted and then nodded sullenly. "Fine, just get on with it, but don't expect a tip."

Gwen started work again, but had to pause every few seconds because the girl squirmed beneath her gloved hand and screamed and cussed. She ignored her as best she could, and pressed on with her work; she would finish this damn fucking tattoo.

Two minutes later, with the leaves finally done, Gwen put the gun down. She'd been concentrating so hard on her work that she'd not noticed that she had an audience. Paul was leaning in the doorway, watching in fascination, while Dwayne stood behind him looking bored. Jessica, with her back to the door, hadn't noticed them either.

Paul stepped closer, and Gwen rolled herself across the floor on her stool so she was between him and the girl. "I'm busy, Paul. Go wait out front."

Jessica whipped her head around, caught sight of Paul, and shrieked. "Get the fuck away, you freak!" she yelled, as she tried to cover her ass with her hands.

Paul moved closer, side stepped Gwen, and jerked Jessica's hand away from her ass. "Is that what all the fucking noise is about?" he laughed. "Man, that's pathetic."

Gwen stood up and gave him a shove. "Back off, buddy."

He looked at Gwen, and then at the now terrified young woman, homing in on the spots of blood on the half finished tattoo. "But I'm hungry," he grinned wolfishly, as he roughly pushed Gwen towards the front of the store. Dwayne caught hold of her, span her around and wrapped his arms around her from behind, trapping her against his chest.

Paul laughed again, as his face changed and his fangs descended. "Now let me give you something to really scream about little girl," he crowed as he set upon the panic stricken young woman. Jessica screamed in what to Gwen sounded like a mixture of fear and pain, but Paul's body thankfully blocked out the view.

She struggled against Dwayne, but his arms held tight. His breath was cold against her ear has he laughed at the scene in front of him. She stamped down on his foot with the heel of her boot, but she didn't even get a reaction out of him, and the more she struggled, the tighter he held her and more he just laughed.

Jessica had finally stopped screaming, and Paul turned to look at Gwen, face smeared with blood; Jessica's blood. "Least you don't have to finish that fucking awful tattoo now," he grinned, as his face morphed back to normal and his fangs receded.

"Fucking hell," Gwen whispered in shock as she trembled in Dwayne's arms. "You just… I…"

Paul shrugged, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and unceremoniously hauled the blood splattered dead girl off the stool she'd been sat on. He dragged her over to the fire exit, shoved the door open, and nodded to Dwayne. "I'll just take the garbage out; be back in a minute."

Gwen sagged in Dwayne's arms, tears running down her face. She couldn't believe that he'd just done that right here in front of her. She felt sick. Hell, she was going to be sick. Gwen shoved against Dwayne again, and he had the good sense to let her go this time. She dashed to the staff restroom, and threw up the meager contents of her stomach. Then she sank to the floor, rested her head against the cool linoleum, and closed her eyes. This could not be happening to her, she thought in horror. Would be just like Jessica in a couple of weeks, dead and disposed of like rubbish? Bile rose in her throat once more, and Gwen just managed to haul herself off the floor again so she could reach the toilet. She didn't want to die, not now, and not like that; butchered by beautiful monsters.

The fire door clanged shut, and she could hear low voices in the shop; Paul must have come back. Maybe she could spend the night here; they'd leave eventually, right? She sank back down to the floor and shut her eyes again. What the fuck had she done to deserve this?

* * *

"Doll?"

Gwen cracked an eye half open and glared at Dwayne.

He knelt down next to her and hauled her into a sitting position. "Come on, you have work to do."

"Go away," she rasped out as she yanked her latex gloves off and cast them on the floor. "I'm not doing this, I can't do this."

"You can, and you will," Dwayne stated as he tugged her to her feet.

She rinsed her mouth out a few times in the small sink until the acrid taste had gone ,and then sagged heavily against the door jamb as more tears slid down her face. "I don't want to die like that."

"You won't, I promise," he whispered as he pulled her against him.

"You can't promise me anything," she muttered into his chest.

Paul stepped into view, all evidence of his recent snack removed from his face and neck. "Everything's cool, girl. I just want some ink, that's all."

"That's all?" Gwen shrieked as he pulled away from Dwayne. "You ate my fucking customer, you arsehole!"

He shrugged. "Yeah, but she was damn annoying."

She put her head in her hands. "Please, both of you just go."

Dwayne stepped in close again and tipped her chin up with his fingers. "We are what we are doll, nothing's gonna change that, so you better get used to it."

Gwen shook her head slowly. "I just… How can this… You're not supposed to be real."

Dwayne smiled and brushed his fingers over her choker, thumb rubbing over the wound he'd made the previous night. "But we are."

She shivered, and he curled one hand in her long hair, while the other unfastened the scrap of fabric from around her neck. He dropped a chaste kiss on the raw wound on her throat, and then pulled back. "I can smell your fear, Gwendolyn, did you know that?"

She gulped. "No," she forced out.

He nodded once. "But do you know what else I can smell?"

She whispered the word this time, "No."

Dwayne he ran his hand down her neck, around the curve of her breast and then rested it upon her hip, splaying his fingers over her smooth flesh just below the bottom of her t-shirt. "I can smell lust. Deep down, despite the fear, you want me. You want to know what it would feel like, don't you Gwendolyn?"

Gwen gasped and shut her eyes so that she didn't have to look at him. How did he know? Yes, she freely admitted that he scared her half to death, but deep in the pit of her stomach, she did wonder what he would be like in her bed. He was attractive, hell all four of them were attractive, but there was something about Dwayne that called out to her, but she hadn't even wanted to admit it to herself.

"Look at me doll," he commanded.

Gwen blinked her eyes open and stared into his. Dwayne tugged her flush against him and captured her mouth with his. She tensed up for a brief second, and then fisted her hands in the front of his jacket and let him slide his tongue into her mouth. Lust consumed her as the kiss intensified and she curled a leg around him, drawing him in closer.

"Fuck, I could sell tickets for this!" Paul announced suddenly.

The couple broke the kiss, Gwen hiding her red face in the soft leather of Dwayne's jacket, while he shot a murderous glare at his brother.

Paul smirked, and then Gwen stood up on tip toes to glare over Dwayne's shoulder at him. "You say another fucking word and I'll tattoo something very rude on you."

"It won't stick, girl," he laughed.

"Not right now, no. But I have a couple of ideas up my sleeve, so you better be nice to me. In fact, you can start by cleaning this place up. There's a mop in the store room, and I certainly don't want Jake to see the mess this place is in."

"Hey!" Paul grumbled.

"You made most of the damn mess, not me," she retorted as she pushed Dwayne aside, the moment gone, and began to collect up equipment to go in the auto clave.

"She has got a point, brother," Dwayne commented. "This Jake guy is coming back, doll?"

"Yeah about midnight. To either lock up if I've finished with customers, or to stock check and shit like that until I've done. Why, what time is it now?"

"Nearly midnight."

"Oh shit, this place is a fucking mess. How the hell am I going to explain the blood on the floor?"

"You know the rules Paul, so you better get mopping, boy," Dwayne teased.

Paul glared. "If you tell a single soul about this, I'll kick your ass."

Dwayne rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Shall I see if I can find you an apron to wear?"

Gwen tuned them both out as they continued to bicker and tease, and carried on putting her equipment away, hoping that they got everything finished quickly. "You both need to be gone by the time Jake shows up; use the back door if necessary," she informed them. "And I need a wine cork, so someone needs to pick me up a bottle of wine from the store."

"Cork?" Dwayne asked in confusion.

"For the needle; I won't be able to use a gun. And I'll no doubt need the wine by the time I've finished. And where do I need to meet you two?"

"We're parked a couple of doors down, so just meet us by the bikes," Paul commented grumpily as he filled the bucket with water.

Gwen nodded. "Okay, so where are we gonna do this tattoo."

"Your place," Dwayne replied with a shit eating grin.

"Oh no, not a chance, pal."

Dwayne stepped closer to her and smirked. "Or we can go back to our place, and you can chance running into David later on."

She shook her head in disbelief. "There has to be somewhere else…"

Dwayne smiled. "No."

"But I'll have to invite you in, all of you, and I can't do that; I'd be completely defenseless..."

Paul giggled as he slopped water on the floor, the blood turning pink as it diluted. "You still think that we're gonna eat you, girl?"

She glanced at Dwayne. "I think that's the least of my worries."

He laughed loudly and swatted her on the ass. "You may just be right there, doll."

"Fuck," she whispered as she picked up her discarded gloves from the floor and dropped them in the yellow trash bag for medical waste.

"Later," he grinned just as the shop door sounded.

Both he and Paul vanished in an instant out the back door, and then Jake walked into the room.

"Hey Gwen, busy night?"

"Huh?"

"You okay?"

She nodded, still trying to push aside image of Dwayne naked and... "Yeah, peachy," she managed finally.

"What's with the mop and bucket? Place is a bit of a mess," Jake grumbled.

"Ink!" She blurted out. "I spilt a load of ink on the floor. I'm sorry, I was just finishing cleaning it up."

"You look a little flushed, sweetheart. You okay?"

"Must be the heat," she replied with a weak smile.

Jake nodded, accepting her explanations. "Why don't you head out? I'll finish up for you."

Gwen eyed the bucket on the floor; the water in it a pale pink color. She picked it up and tipped it quickly down the sink. "Thanks, Jake. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure thing, take care."

She grabbed her jacket and hustled out of the shop, her heart pounding and her emotions in turmoil.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who is raeding and reviewing.

**Once Upon A Time**

**Chapter Six**

Gwen unlocked her door, stepped into the room, then flipped the light on, and turned back to face Paul and Dwayne. "There's nowhere else, right?" she asked, as an uneasy feeling formed in her gut. Gwen knew that letting these two in here was a very bad idea; this meager space was her sanctuary while she was in Santa Carla, and permitting the vampires to cross the threshold pretty much gave them carte blanche to come and go as they pleased. Still, at least it wasn't David she was inviting in; that would be really bloody stupid and dangerous.

Dwayne nodded slowly. "Here or our place."

"Crap," she muttered as she rested her head against the wall and hoped for a last minute solution to leap out at her.

"So, may I come in?" Dwayne asked politely as he leant against the door jamb, and looked at her with a touch of concern in his eyes.

"Sure, why the hell not," Gwen grumbled as she moved aside to let him pass.

Paul stepped up to the door, grinning broadly. "What about me?"

She scowled. "I was thinking about making you stand in the door way all night."

"Come on, girl. Hey, you have to let me in; I'm the one with all the weed."

"I think I smoked enough weed to last me a life time just last night," Gwen groused. She knew that she had no choice but to let him in now, but her nerves were still on edge. "Fine, but behave yourself."

He nodded his thanks and made a show of stepping over the thresh hold. "So, this tattoo?"

Gwen dropped the bag of supplies on the night stand and handed the bottle of wine to Dwayne. "There's a corkscrew somewhere in that shit heap they call a kitchenette; see if you can find it. Oh, and don't mangle the cork getting it out; I need it as intact as possible. In fact, try not to pierce it all the way through, as I need to be able to stick the needle in it."

Dwayne looked at her like she was crazy and wandered into the kitchen area, while Paul sprawled out on her rumpled bed. "You get burgled or something?"

"Huh?"

"The mess," he commented as he gestured his hand at the clothes all over the dresser and floor.

"And your place is any better?" she shot back.

"Touché," Dwayne laughed as handed Gwen the cork and took a swig from the bottle of wine.

Gwen forced herself into her work persona and cracked a tight smile. "So Paul, let's get this over with, shall we?"

He grinned back. "Oh yeah."

"Right, I want to use your back; less visible if things fuck up. Just chuck your stuff on the chair."

"You want me to remove my pants too," he leered.

"Not if you want your bollocks rearranging with my boot," she replied cattily before she could stop herself.

"You're just afraid that my amazing body would make you unable to concentrate on the tattoo."

"No, I just have no desire to see what you have below the waist, thanks. I see enough shriveled packages in this job as it is, and I don't want nightmares for the next week, thank you."

Dwayne sniggered at her comeback, shoved a pile of clothes off the other chair and sat down, propping his feet up on the dresser. He eyed the pile of cheap costume jewelry that sat on the dresser with interest, brow scrunching slightly as he took in the crucifix that sat on the top of the heap.

Paul glared at them both, but dutifully slid his jacket off and then followed with his fishnet top.

"You'll have to move; the light's shit in here." Gwen turned on the bedside lamp and patted the top of the bed.

He wiggled over to where Gwen indicated and looked at her expectantly, excitement almost crackling off his body.

She studied his back professionally, shifted the lamp around, and then finally pulled the shade off it. "Daylight would be better, you know," she suggested bravely, a touch of sarcasm edging into her voice.

"Bite me," Paul growled.

Gwen nodded sagely. "Hmm, what a great idea."

"What?"

"Nothing, don't mind me," she replied as she tipped out her equipment. She slid on a pair of gloves, decanted the ink, fixed the needle into the cork, and then studied his back again. "Shift forward, I need to be able to sit behind you. Have you got something for your hair? I need you to tie it back."

Paul shook his head.

Gwen looked to Dwayne. "What about you?"

"Nope," he replied.

"Jacket pocket," she gestured with a nod of her head, and Dwayne retrieved a hot pink scrunchie. He held it aloft between his forefinger and thumb like it was about to bite him, and eyed it suspiciously.

Paul tensed. "Please no, anything but that."

"Sorry, it's the pink scrunchie, or no tattoo; I'm not moving your hair out of my work every five seconds," Gwen responded neutrally. It took all of her self control not to burst out laughing; she did have a simple black hair elastic around her wrist, but she wasn't going to tell Paul that.

He shook his head sadly. "I can't believe I'm going to do this; just don't tell Marko, I'll never hear the end of this."

"You did know that you have to suffer for your art, right?" Gwen joked.

"Shut up," he muttered as Dwayne pinged the hair tie at him, and he begrudgingly fastened his blond locks up in a loose bun. "Happy now?"

"Immensely," she smiled as she climbed onto the bed behind him and settled herself cross legged. "So, what I'm going to do is just put a simple design down, and then see what happens. I need to find out how long this will last, as I understand that you guys will regenerate pretty quickly, right?"

Paul nodded.

"Normally, I'd clean the area with alcohol, but I won't bother tonight, as one, I didn't bring any and I'm not wasting my bottle of vodka on this, and two, I doubt that you'd get any infections anyway."

"That's about right, girl. Though I'll have some vodka if you have some here."

"Not a chance, pal." Gwen dipped the needle in the ink, and put her left hand on his back to stretch the skin a little. "Lean forward a bit for me, will you."

Paul obeyed and when she was satisfied, Gwen began to work.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Dwayne looked over, a puzzled look on his face. "What's that weird noise?"

"What noise?"

"That popping sound."

"You can hear that all the way over there?" she asked, and then shook her head. "Of course, I mean you can fly and tons of other shit, so why not have heightened senses? How silly of me.

Paul sniggered, and Dwayne just smiled.

"Don't mind me, I'm just a dumb mortal," she murmured.

Dwayne ignored her waspish comment. "So what is that noise?"

"It's the sound of the needle. You have to angle it to get the ink in, and it catches skin on the way out, making the popping sound," she explained.

He scrunched his face up in disgust. "Too much information, thanks."

"Aww, the big bad vampire is squeamish," she teased.

Dwayne glared. "Hey! It's not that, just that the sound is…"

"Freaky," Paul offered.

"Yeah," Dwayne agreed. "You mind of I put the telly on so I don't have to listen to it?"

"Yes," Gwen snapped, without looking up from her work. "I need to concentrate. Just stick your fingers in your bloody ears or something."

"Oooh testy," Paul laughed.

Gwen scowled and stabbed the needle deep into his shoulder, causing Paul to flinch as the three small sharp points of steel hit the bone. "And you can just shut the fuck up, mate."

"Jeez, chill will you, girl?" he muttered.

"If I actually make it home, I'm never leaving London ever again," she grumbled angrily to herself.

"You are no fun," Paul stated.

"That's what I said last night," Dwayne commented from the other side of the room.

"No, you guys just have a very warped idea of what fun is," Gwen retorted.

"Duh, we're vampires," Paul laughed.

Gwen smacked him around the head. "Will you sit still? You're worse than a four year old; constantly fidgeting. You got crabs or something?"

Paul frowned and glanced at Dwayne. "Did she just insult me?"

"Yeah, man."

"Couldn't you find a tattooist with better manners?"

Dwayne bit back a grin. "Not at short notice, sorry bro."

"I can hear you, you know," Gwen growled, as she loaded the needle with more ink. "Besides, feel free to find someone else to do this, I'd be more than happy to give the job to another tattooist."

"I reckon we'd struggle to find one as hot as you, girl. Guess we'll just have to put up with your attitude," Paul teased.

Gwen chose not to dignify him with a response, and carried on working in silence. The words on Paul's back took form, and after a few minutes she sat back and rolled her shoulders to try and ease the tension out of them. "Right, I'm done; go show Dwayne."

Paul practically flew from the bed, jerked the scrunchie from his hair, and turned around to show Dwayne, who instantly burst out laughing.

"What?" Paul demanded. "What the fuck did she do?"

Dwayne smirked. "Nothing, it's fine, really."

Paul glowered at Gwen and took a couple of steps towards her. "What did you ink on me, girl?" he growled.

She bit her lip to stifle a snigger, composed herself and smiled sweetly. "Bite me."

"Hey, fuck you, what the hell did you do? It's not like I can look in a fucking mirror, you know!"

Gwen shrugged. "Bite me."

Paul growled, his fists clenched, and took another step closer. "I'll ask one more time before I rip your fucking throat out. What did you put on my back?"

Gwen scooted back up the bed, hit the headboard with a thump and looked to Dwayne in desperation, her heart pounding and her hands sweating inside the latex gloves. "Tell him before he fucking kills me, damn it!"

Dwayne noted the fear in her eyes and finally relented. "Bro, Paul? She's already told you what she did."

Paul frowned. "Bite me?"

Gwen nodded. "I'm sorry; I thought it would be funny. It won't last, so you know I just…"

Paul finally twigged. "Oh, you mean you tattooed bite me on me?"

"Yeah."

He laughed. "I like that, that's fucking funny. So how long's it gonna last?"

"Not a bloody clue. Do I look like the vampire tattoo expert?" she retorted sassily as the fear in her belly began to ease as Paul's anger faded.

Paul glanced over his shoulder and grinned at Dwayne. "She's feisty; I see what you mean, man."

Dwayne nodded, and winked at Gwen.

She shifted uncomfortably, not fully understanding what Paul was driving at, but all the same not really wanting to know either. "Am I missing something here? What do you mean, Dwayne?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it, doll," he responded smoothly.

Gwen drew her knees up, and hugged her legs, his response doing little to set her at ease. "I don't want to know, right?"

"Well, I guess I could tell you," Paul leered.

"No! No, I don't want to know, okay?"

"Good choice," Dwayne laughed. "Wine?"

She snatched the bottle out of his hand, took a long pull and hoped that some alcohol in her system would make her less jumpy. "Sit down again, Paul. I want to check you back. The sooner the tattoo's gone, the sooner the pair of you can leave me the hell alone for the night."

He dropped down on the bed again, and Gwen prodded his back with her gloved fingers. "Does that hurt at all?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, well it looks totally healed, which is pretty amazing in the space of five minutes. It should scab over, but I can't even see any evidence of that," Gwen frowned, and ran her fingers over the tattoo again. "Maybe the wounds are so small that they heal right away; whatever, it's still freaky."

"Maybe the ink will stick?" Paul mused.

Gwen shook her head. "I doubt it."

"So what's the plan for tomorrow, girl?"

"Same thing again, only this time I chuck some holy water in with the ink."

Both men looked at her like she was crazy.

"Holy water?" Dwayne whispered.

"Sure it harms vampires, right? I know I've only got a handful of Hammer Horror films to work with for reference, but that's correct isn't it?"

Paul swallowed audibly. "Yeah, that's right, girl. Maybe this isn't such a good idea…"

"Let me get one thing straight with you Paul, my arse is on the line here. If David finds out what I know and what I'm doing then I'm dead. I have a good idea of how I'll meet my demise, and it don't look right pretty to me. So you will fucking sit here every damn night until I've tattooed something that lasts longer than a week, 'cos if that git is going to rip my throat out, it won't be before I've done what I'd said I'd do. Got that?"

"But holy water…" Paul murmured, a pained expression on his face.

Gwen tried to hide her smirk; she finally felt like she'd got the upper hand in this situation. "That bad, huh?"

Both guys glared at her.

Gwen looked pointedly at Dwayne. "Maybe I need to start bathing in the damn stuff, or applying it to my neck like perfume."

Dwayne moved with such speed that he was upon her in the blink of an eye, his hand around her throat, nails digging into the skin, and his body on top of hers, pinning her to the bed. "If I think for one fucking second," he spat, "that you'll try and pull some sort of shit with me, it won't be David that you need to be afraid of. You will not hurt me or my brothers. Do as you are told, and I will stand between you and David if he finds out about what's going on, but if I discover that you are plotting anything, I will kill you myself. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Gwen choked out, as she struggled to breath.

"Good girl." He released his hold on her and stepped away.

Gwen blinked, gingerly touched the crescent shaped marks on her neck, and then took another swig of wine for courage. She was pissed now, as she'd not meant that remark in anger. Instead, she'd just totally misjudged a vampire's sense of humor; and she'd thought that Dwayne would find the comment funny. Still, right now she'd had enough of his macho posturing. "Get out, the pair of you."

Dwayne stared menacingly at her for a couple of beats, and then nudged Paul. "Get dressed, man. We'll see you tomorrow night, doll. Same time, same place. And I'll get the holy water, not you."

Paul grabbed his clothes form the chair and Gwen stared at his back. "Stop," she said quietly. "Just hang on a second, Paul."

She stood slowly, crossed the room to him, skirting warily around Dwayne, and ran her still gloved fingers over the tattoo. Her fingers came away black with ink, so she grabbed some Kleenex and wiped the area. The tattoo has practically vanished, the ink pushed out from Paul's skin as his body healed.

"What?" Paul demanded.

She shook her head slowly. "It's gone; the ink's been forced out."

He shrugged and scooped up his clothing. "We knew it would, but thanks for trying, girl. Here." He handed her a small bag of grass. "For your trouble."

And with a whirl of wind, the pair vanished, and her door slammed shut behind them with a thud.

Gwen jerked off the stained gloves and cast them in the trash, grabbed the wine bottle and sat down heavily in the chair that Dwayne had vacated. "God help me," she whispered as she lifted the bottle to her lips with a shaky hand. And to think that she had to do it all over again tomorrow night. That thought made her head spin, so she took another swig, to dull her raging emotions. It was then she realized that the silver cross on her dresser had now vanished, and two vampires had access to her motel room. Shit, things were not looking good.


End file.
